


From the Ashes

by msraven



Series: Phoenix Rising [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Backstory, Clint Needs a Hug, Get Together, M/M, Secret Relationship, Slow Build, booksmart!Clint, covertly!smart!Clint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-21
Updated: 2013-03-07
Packaged: 2017-12-03 04:37:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/694243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msraven/pseuds/msraven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Clint finally meets the infamous Phil Coulson about an hour after arriving at HQ. It doesn't go well.</i>
</p><p>An AU backstory of how Clint meets Phil and how they learn to tolerate, trust, desire, and love each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Unfortunate First Impressions

**Author's Note:**

> Originally intended as a companion piece to my fic [Resurrection](http://archiveofourown.org/works/682238) and took on a life of its own. It's going to take a while to get there, so you don't necessarily need to have read that first.
> 
> Thanks to [Sinope](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinope/pseuds/Sinope) for originally giving me the idea/prompt for a C/C fic where they don't immediately like each other.
> 
> Thanks also to [kultiras](http://archiveofourown.org/users/kultiras/pseuds/pyroblaze18) for being my constant cheerleader and friend and for convincing me not to scrap this whole thing.

Clint Barton has the best eyesight in the world, enhanced or otherwise, but he never sees Phil Coulson coming.

Yes, he knew who Coulson was, everyone did. Long before his days at SHIELD, during his early days as a mercenary, the whispers of Phil Coulson were always there. If the threat of SHIELD hovered over all of their heads like the afterlife, then Coulson was the Boogie Man incarnate. “Be careful,” the mercenary mother hens would say - the ones who bothered to actually train and develop the next line of blood thirsty criminals - “get too big for you britches and SHIELD will come after you. Get cocky and they’ll send Coulson, then not even God can help you.”

But that’s not the important part. 

Maybe it’s best to start at the beginning.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Contrary to most of the SHIELD rumor mills, it’s Fury, not Coulson who recruits Hawkeye into SHIELD. Coulson didn’t chase Clint down a dirty alley, shoot him in the thigh, and then stand over him in the pouring rain with a gun to his forehead - although that variation ends up being Clint’s favorite. What actually happens is a lot less dramatic.

Clint does have a gunshot wound in his thigh, but it's long since healed and he's near the end of his self-guided physiotherapy, relaxing in one of his favorite pubs on the outskirts of Edinburgh. He has been carrying on a strange sort of correspondence with SHIELD over the last year - information scattered across the world in the form of dead bodies and whispered rumors. Clint is only slightly surprised when Fury walks in wearing jeans and a thick sweater, looking for all the world like a tourist seeking out a drink and not there to meet an assassin-for-hire. 

"Heya Nick!" Clint greets the SHIELD director warmly and signals the waitress for a round of drinks. "Love what you've done with the patch."

Fury grunts and waits for the waitress to drop off their pints before speaking. "We got your message. You in?"

"Assuming you agree to my exit terms, I'm your man," Clint responds. 

Fury nods and they spend the rest of the night drinking beer and watching rugby. The next morning, Clint is on his way to SHIELD's New York HQ as a level 4 Specialist. 

It probably doesn't make sense to most people why Hawkeye, one of the highest paid and most sought after assassins in the world, would throw his lot in with SHIELD. Clint honestly doesn't care what most people think of him. He's always prided himself in being self aware and he knows he's not cut out to be a loner. Clint willingly admits that joining the army had been a mistake - too restrictive and hypocritical with its claims of no man left behind - but he'd enjoyed the camaraderie with his fellow soldiers and is hoping SHIELD can provide the fit he's looking for. 

Clint finally meets the infamous Phil Coulson about an hour after arriving at HQ. It doesn't go well. 

They have Clint stashed away in an interrogation room to read over manuals while they process his entry paperwork. He's leaning back in a chair with his feet propped comfortably up on the table when Fury sweeps in dramatically, followed closely by a suit - a very attractive suit. Clint takes in the trim musculature hidden underneath the formal clothing, the man's precise way of moving, piercing blue eyes, and chiseled facial features and initially thinks he's in trouble. Then Clint looks back at the suit's eyes and sees the disdain he is barely attempting to conceal. It’s an expression Clint is well familiar with. 

It’s the expression of someone who’s done nothing but read his baseline file - abusive childhood, orphan, circus freak, no formal education, desertion from the Rangers, mercenary, assassin - and has decided that Clint is irredeemable without digging deeper. Someone who takes the worn combat boots, scruffy clothes, and laid back attitude at face value and sees only a discipline problem waiting to happen. 

If they did bother to dig deeper, they’d find that Clint earned his GED at 16 while still with the circus and has several degrees under an assumed name, including a doctorate in Applied Mathematics from Cornell. Digging deeper would also reveal that, at the urging of his entire unit and the British forces they’d saved, Clint’s actions prior to his desertion had been re-reviewed and there is a medal of valor somewhere in the Pentagon with his name on it. As for the clothes, they’re comfortable and Clint doesn’t like advertising the millions of dollars he has stashed away in various accounts and investments. 

The suit’s eyes narrow when Clint doesn’t sit up or stand at their entrance. Clint sighs inwardly, while outwardly slouching further in his seat and smirking at the two men. Sometimes, it’s best to give people exactly what they’re expecting.

“Fury,” Clint says with a nod before turning to the suit. “Let me guess, you must be the famous Agent Coulson. You’re...” Clint drawls, letting his eyes sweep meaningfully up and down the suit’s body, “smaller than I expected.”

Clint sees Fury’s lips twitch as the suit drops his nonchalant mask and scowls. 

“Barton, this is Phil Coulson,” Fury confirms. “Agent Coulson is going to take you through the intake process and show you to your quarters. You’ll meet your handler, Agent Gutierrez, in the morning.”

“Welcome to SHIELD, _Specialist_ Barton,” Coulson says and Clint wants to laugh at the not-so-subtle reminder of his rank within the organization. 

“Where to first?” Clint asks, jumping lightly to his feet and stretching. “Medical or the range?”

“It’s nice to see you’ve made use of your time actually reading the manuals,” Coulson says, voice dripping with condescension. 

Clint really wants to know what put the burr up Coulson’s ass and can’t help firing back with the biggest mid-western accent he can manage. “Well, aw shucks, sir. There be some big words in them books, but I got through ‘em without needin’ a dictionary or nothin’. Nuns would’a been proud.” 

Coulson glares at Clint, who glares right back until Fury breaks in. “Barton, stop fucking with Coulson and get your ass down to Medical. You’ll hit the range with Gutierrez tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir,” Clint responds automatically and walks out the door, not bothering to check if Coulson is following him. 

Clint has already memorized the layout of the building thanks to the maps provided in the manuals and doesn’t need help finding his way to Medical. He ignores Coulson’s presence in the corner of the room during his physical exam and follows the agent silently to Clint’s assigned quarters afterward. Coulson hands Clint his ID badge at the door, holding onto to it a little longer than necessary- as if wishing he could take it back. Clint pulls the badge out of the agent’s fingers with a smirk, shutting the door in Coulson’s face before flopping onto his new bed. He tells himself that one day and one unyielding agent is not enough for Clint to second-guess his decision to join SHIELD, but can’t help the apprehension now sitting heavily in his gut.


	2. Digging Deeper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Under Clint’s direction, his small team has disabled and contained most of the Hydra force and Coulson’s team is the one that ends up cutting off escape routes. Clint gets a small nod of acknowledgement and a considering look from the agent in charge and pats himself on the back for not rolling his eyes in response.

Unfortunately for Clint’s peace of mind, Fury seems to have an ulterior motive in recruiting the archer. Over the next year, Hawkeye is placed with every fucked-up, questionable, and clueless handler Fury can come up with. Clint loses track of how many times he gets written up for insubordination and it becomes apparent to him, if not the other agents, that Fury is using Hawkeye to weed out the handlers that aren’t expected to cut it in SHIELD. 

Clint doesn’t understand how the other agents don’t see it, don’t go running when they’re handed the change of handler form with Hawkeye’s name at the top. The pattern is pretty simple. Hawkeye gets assigned a new handler and, within a few ops, he’s forced to disobey orders to either save his own life, the lives of other agents, the op, or all of the above. Most of the handlers immediately write Clint up for insubordination and, after a thorough review by the director, the handlers get shuffled to other positions lower in the SHIELD ranks or are politely asked to leave SHIELD altogether. Fury backs Clint’s actions each and every time. It’s only the rare handlers who make an attempt to see Clint’s perspective that keep their jobs.

“I just don’t get it,” Clint complains to Sitwell about a year after joining SHIELD. 

Clint has just finished a two hour meeting with another new handler who spent the entire time expounding on how insubordination would not be tolerated. Sitwell finds him sulking in the corner of the mess and literally knocking his head against the table.

“Another one?” Jasper asks. “Let me see.”

Clint doesn’t answer, but lets Sitwell snag the paperwork from under Clint’s forehead. He lifts his head fully and smiles his thanks when Jasper slides a rootbeer float across the table. Despite all the turmoil in the field, Clint has made several friends within SHIELD who have managed to make the past year bearable. 

“Is it Wilson?” Woo asks excitedly as he sits next to Jasper. “I win a hundred bucks if it’s Wilson.”

“Nope, Gilmore,” Sitwell answers. “Garrett wins the pot this time.”

“I just don’t get it,” Clint repeats. “How are these guys not realizing that I’m a sure sign that Fury has it out for them?”

“Could be one of the reasons they’re on the shortlist in the first place,” Woo points out. 

Clint groans and fights the urge to slam his forehead back down on the table. Woo and Sitwell trade possible names for the next round of contenders after Gilmore while Clint finishes off his float. He slurps the last of the drink sadly and stands.

“Wish I could stay and continue entertaining you with my pain, but we’re leaving for an op early in the morning,” Clint explains. “I better hit the sack.”

“Me too,” Sitwell says and stands with him. 

“Good luck,” Woo wishes with a wave at them both. 

Sitwell doesn’t say anything as they walk down the hallway, but gives Clint a supportive pat on the shoulder before they split ways. Clint lets himself into his room and groans loudly when he sees the six-pack of London Pride sitting on his desk. If Fury is leaving him beer, then the op scheduled for tomorrow is bound to be a cluster fuck. He allows himself one beer before getting in bed - better to be well rested and aware than tired and stupid, he thinks before closing his eyes. 

Surprise is a huge understatement for what Clint feels the next morning when he finds that the small op he was expecting is anything but. Gilmore is still his handler, but the larger op is going to be run by Coulson. Jasper, who knows all about Clint and Coulson’s unfavorable first meeting, meets his eyes across the tarmac and shrugs in apology. Up until now, Clint and Coulson had kept up an unspoken agreement to stay out of each other’s way. Fury owed him a bottle of scotch, not just a pack of beer, if Clint has to deal with both Gilmore and Coulson on the same op. Clint scowls unhappily, but takes his place with the rest of Gilmore’s small team. 

SHIELD is taking down a previously hidden Hydra base and Gilmore’s team is only there to cut off one of the secondary escape routes. It’s not until they’re on the ground and moving into position when Clint sees that something is clearly not right. He signals for the rest of the team to stay back out of sight and they freeze without question - Gilmore may outrank Hawkeye, but they trust Hawkeye more.

“What’s the holdup Hawkeye?” Gilmore asks over the comm.

“Something’s not right,” Clint responds. “Permission to investigate.”

“Negative,” Gilmore immediately replies. “I don’t have time for your showboating. Everyone get into position.”

“Belay that order,” Coulson suddenly cuts in. “Report, Specialist.”

Clint hesitates. Talk about being stuck between a rock and fucking Adamantium wall. “Tracks,” Clint finally relays to Coulson. “Too many for this to be a secondary route for anything, sir.”

“Permission to investigate granted,” Coulson says calmly over Gilmore’s sputtering objection. “You have fifteen and then we’re sending backup after you.”

“Roger that,” Clint says before moving to follow the tracks he’d found.

It only takes him ten minutes to find the warehouse full of Hydra soldiers and then Clint is too busy dodging bullets to communicate more than a hasty warning about the ambush. He ignores Gilmore’s stunned silence and issues his own orders to the rest of the team until Coulson and the main SHIELD force arrives. Under Clint’s direction, his small team has disabled and contained most of the Hydra force and Coulson’s team is the one that ends up cutting off escape routes. Clint gets a small nod of acknowledgement and a considering look from the agent in charge and pats himself on the back for not rolling his eyes in response.

Clint isn’t sure what to expect after the op, but it’s definitely not the knock on his door later that evening. He’d wrenched his shoulder pulling a Hydra soldier out of a moving truck, effectively giving him downtime for the rest of the week. Clint is looking forward to spending some quality time on his most recent journal article and isn’t happy about the interruption. He shuts his laptop with a sigh, opens the door, and can’t hide his surprise at seeing Coulson on the other side.

“Agent Coulson,” Clint greets, voice neither warm nor unwelcoming. 

“Barton,” Coulson responds and moves past Clint into the room. Clint doesn’t really have much choice but to allow it since body-blocking the agent would probably be considered rude and bad for his career at SHIELD.

Coulson takes the only chair in the room, so Clint sprawls on the bed in a semi-sitting position with his back against the wall. He’ll have to figure out how to get it up without jarring his shoulder after the other man has left. 

“To what do I owe this pleasure, Agent Coulson?” Clint asks once they’re both settled.

“I thought it would be prudent to tell you in person that you’ve been reassigned with me as your handler - effective immediately,” Coulson responds and hands Clint a folder. 

“So Fury’s all done with the hazing then?” Clint reaches out to take the folder, but doesn’t open it. Coulson only raises an eyebrow at his question. “You know. The let’s see how many fucked up handlers Hawkeye can deal with without going insane, hazing.”

“On the contrary,” Coulson replies calmly. “The director put a great deal of faith in your ability to deal with the less savory handlers without severe injury to yourselves or others.”

Clint scoffs, but has to agree that very few of the junior agents he’s worked with would have stood up to the round robin of bad handlers he’s been saddled with.

“So since I don’t think Fury’s looking to kick you out of SHIELD or demote you, how did you draw the short straw?” Clint can’t help asking.

“I requested you,” Coulson admits and that has both of Clint’s eyebrows rising almost to his hairline.

“Come again?”

“I believe we got off on the wrong foot,” Coulson says reluctantly, acting as if Clint is torturing the admission out of him instead of sitting gobsmacked on the bed. 

The thing is, despite the bad first meeting, Clint can’t help being impressed by Coulson. While his reputation is a fairy tale outside of SHIELD, Coulson’s actual track record within SHIELD is the stuff of legend. Clint has no idea why Coulson would ever volunteer to work with him. The other snipers don’t come close to matching Hawkeye’s skill, but they’re adequate for what Coulson’s teams usually need. 

“I’m typically in charge of recruiting our more volatile assets,” Coulson continues. “Let’s just say that the director and I did not agree at how quickly you were brought in. We knew virtually nothing about you.”

“And now?” Clint prods.

“I’ve done some digging, _Doctor_ Walsh,” Coulson responds and then reaches into his jacket pocket before throwing a flat box at Clint. He doesn’t have to open it to know what’s inside and leaves the box sitting closed against his thigh. “You’ve done an admirable job cultivating your image as nothing but an uncultured sniper.”

“People draw their own conclusions,” Clint says pointedly. Coulson is not putting this one on him.

Coulson blinks and then inclines his head in agreement. “My mistake. Which is why I propose we start over.”

Again, Clint doesn’t have any other choice but to nod his own agreement. Fury may be a good boss and someone Clint now considered a friend, but Clint knows he’s in no position to deny Coulson’s request. He holds back a sigh and realizes there is no graceful way to get up without pain to his shoulder. He’s barely shifted when Coulson stands and holds out a hand. Clint reluctantly accepts the help up and moves to the desk in search of a pen. 

“You’ll also note that you’ve been promoted to level six,” Coulson adds as Clint flips open the folder. 

Clint looks up, wondering exactly how many more surprises he’s in store for this evening - he’d been expecting a level promotion, not two. “I thought Specialists didn’t go beyond level five?”

“They don’t. Welcome to the upper ranks of SHIELD, Agent Barton,” Coulson says and hands Clint his new ID badge. “Your first set of aptitude tests, which we skipped the first time around, are scheduled for tomorrow at 10am. We’ll discuss the results and your additional training later this week.”

Clint doesn’t look down at the ID in his hand, choosing to look Coulson in the eye instead. He can’t help being wary of what hidden motivation is actually driving Coulson’s actions. “Didn’t think most agents needed handlers.”

The side of Coulson’s mouth lifts into a dangerous smirk. “Don’t sell yourself short, Agent Barton. You’ve never been like most anyone your whole life. Do you expect that to change now?”

Clint stays up late into the night staring at his ceiling and thinking back on Coulson’s parting words. While the archer knows it was meant as a compliment, he’s still not sure if bodes well or ill of his future at SHIELD.


	3. Matters of Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "So let me get this straight," Coulson recites, " _Just_ Nat, who happens to be a master assassin, _just_ drops in during your downtime, you let her _hang out_ for a few months and yet never figure out she's the Black Widow. But somehow, many years later when you're sent to kill her, you know her well enough to decipher that she's willing to come in and be recruited?"
> 
> Clint has to admit it sounds bad when it's laid out like that. "Pretty much."

It takes nine months and them both being on the brink of death for Clint to grudgingly admit that he trusts Coulson. Too bad he’s still not sure he actually likes the man.

Coulson, as promised, runs Clint through a series of tests - both mental and physical - over the next several days. Clint gets an immense feeling of satisfaction as he watches Coulson go over the results at the end of the week. Coulson’s eyes go from feigned disinterest to surprised to impressed as he flips through the stack of papers before giving Clint that same considering look he’d had at the end of the Gilmore op. Realization hits and Clint narrows his eyes, daring the other agent to insinuate that Clint somehow cheated on the tests or faked his degrees. Coulson only nods and leans back in his chair.

“It looks like you may be of use after all, Agent Barton,” Coulson says with that same half-smirk he’d had before leaving Clint’s quarters. Clint’s fingers itch for a projectile to throw at it. 

It turns out that Coulson’s hidden motivation is a small, covert strike team that the agent has been pitching to Fury for years. With Hawkeye joining up, Coulson now has a team of two - neither one of them want to call it a partnership. Fury does end up buying Clint a bottle of single-malt that they share in the quiet of the director’s office - Fury looking like he’s barely containing his laughter the entire time. Clint swirls the ice in his glass and refrains from asking his friend what he finds so fucking amusing. He probably doesn’t want to know. 

Clint gets trained in everything from flight school and computer hacking to military strategy and how to properly administer deadly poisons. By the end of his first six months as a full SHIELD agent under Coulson’s command, Clint is confident he can either suitably convince anyone he’s their long lost twin brother before killing them in their sleep or single-handedly topple most governments currently in existence. He’s never had more fun in his life.

Their first three ops as a team go spectacularly well - their individual skill sets fill in each other’s gaps and they work together more smoothly than either of them expected. Regrettably for Clint, they are given bad intel for their fourth op and he’s captured almost immediately upon stepping foot on foreign soil. Clint has been held for four days, dizzy with blood loss and the supposed truth serums they’ve pumped into him, when Coulson comes for him. He’s hazy on exactly how it happens, but Clint finds himself pointing a gun at the terrorist holding a knife to Coulson’s jugular. The terrorist is standing almost completely behind Coulson and Clint’s entire body is visibly shaking. 

“Do it,” Coulson orders and Clint fires a neat hole into the terrorist’s forehead. The bullet flies close enough to Coulson’s temple that it leaves a small burn mark on his skin. The senior agent never flinches. 

Coulson steps forward to catch Clint as the archer’s knees buckle and gently takes the gun out of his lax fingers. “Took you long enough,” Clint complains as he finally lets himself slip into blissful unconsciousness. He never once doubted that Coulson would come for him.

They never talk about it, the trust that they’ve imparted to each other, but everything gets easier after that fourth op. 

Medical keeps Clint out of the field for four weeks. It takes less than a week for Clint to finally revise and send off his journal article for publication and, with Sitwell and many of the other agents off on assignment, he is left with nothing to do but bother his handler.

“Got any more training that needs done?” Clint asks as he sprawls out on Coulson’s couch and starts bouncing a tennis ball against the ceiling.

“Are you admitting that you have a hole in your training that needs filling?” Coulson asks in return.

“No, but you filling my holes seems like an interesting prospect,” Clint fires back automatically and doesn’t need to bother looking up to know that it gets no reaction from the stoic agent. “Seriously sir, I’m bored out of my mind and Medical still won’t let me have access to the range or the jets.”

“Considering you’re still a pint or so short on blood,” Coulson points out, “I don’t really blame them for keeping you away from projectiles and large machinery.”

Clint heaves as large a sigh as he can muster and the room falls into companionable silence, broken periodically by the tap of keyboard keys and the thud of the ball hitting the ceiling. Patience, they say, is a virtue, so Clint waits. He’s rewarded a few minutes later by a tablet landing square on his chest. Grinning, Clint turns it on to find the first page of the Military Tactics and Strategy training manual on the screen. 

“Already took this one,” Clint reminds Coulson.

“I know,” the agent replies. “You embarrassed the hell out of Wilkins, which I greatly appreciate, and the director thought you would be a good candidate to help improve the training. Your SHIELD-issued laptop is under the table.”

Clint sits up, finds the laptop, and logs in to find the same manual already open. He’d let his temper get ahead of him during the MTS training, actively debating and challenging Wilkins’ conclusions in front of the other agents. His only defense is that the guy had been an unmitigated jackass. Clint was used to being treated like a dumb hick, but there was no reason for Wilkins to treat the other junior agents like idiots. Clint had never imagined any of that would get back to Coulson and Fury or that they’d actually trust him with improving the training. Clint swallows and stares at the open document, suddenly nervous.

“Fury wants you to add a section on guerrilla tactics,” Coulson prods. “Unless you were planning to start on another degree during your downtime?”

“Uh...no,” Clint responds. The textbooks on Theoretical Physics he’d ordered were just to keep him occupied if Coulson didn’t come up with something.

Coulson hums disbelievingly before finally looking up and meeting Clint’s eyes. “Then make yourself useful, Agent Barton.”

There’s a hint of challenge in Coulson’s eyes and Clint gives a slight shake of his head, signaling to the agent that he sees right through the ruse. It does, however, work well enough to get Clint to focus on the task at hand. He’s soon fully immersed in his work, pausing only to grab lunch and then dinner for both of them. It sets a pattern over the next three weeks and neither of them question why Clint comes back every day or why Coulson doesn’t kick him out of his office. 

Medical finally clears Clint for field duty and he makes the familiar trip up to Coulson’s office afterward. He finds his handler reading over Clint’s proposed changes to the training manual and accompanying teaching notes. Clint had asked for his input the night before, but he still fights not to fidget as Coulson finishes reading.

“Impressive,” the agent says simply and Clint is startled by the unexpected compliment. Clint ducks his head in a movement he hasn’t done since he was thirteen, suddenly feeling twenty years younger and like a kid preening under his teacher’s approval. Fury thankfully chooses that moment to walk into Coulson’s office with their next assignment - taking down Black Widow.

Clint doesn’t realize he’s about to test their new-found trust until he’s looking down at the Black Widow and is a split-second away from shooting an arrow into her ear. She makes a barely visible motion with her fingers, a tell that Clint well remembers, and he can’t help laughing into his comm. 

“Hawkeye, report,” Coulson orders when he hears it.

“Um...remember how you used to be in charge of SHIELD’s more volatile recruits?” Clint asks and fires the arrow through Widow’s hood and into the wall behind her instead. Natasha looks at the arrow in surprise and then follows its trajectory up to Clint’s position. He waves. “You’re gonna have to trust me when I say this one isn’t as volatile as she seems.”

Black Widow’s recruitment into SHIELD is also a lot less violent than everyone would like to believe. By the time Clint and Coulson make their way down to her, Natasha has already removed the impressive array of weapons she’d been carrying and laid them carefully on the ground in front of her.

“So you actually joined them,” she says lieu of a greeting. 

“More your fault, than mine,” Clint responds before slowly stowing the weapons away in his gear bag. He holds out a hand for the last knife he knows is still concealed in Natasha’s hair and there's only a small pause before she gives it up.

“You like them,” Natasha states and then looks over at Coulson consideringly.

“Well,” Clint says with a smirk. “Most of them anyway.”

Coulson doesn’t say a word until they're back at HQ and watching Fury interrogate Natasha through the one-way mirror. 

“Explain.”

“We met...uh...eight or nine years ago. In Dublin,” Clint starts. “I was just starting to make a name for myself as a merc, using downtime between jobs to finish up my degree at Trinity. She just showed up one day.”

“Just showed up,” Coulson repeats incredulously.

“Said something about competition being good for business,” Clint explains. “Nat didn’t try to kill me, so I let her stay and hang out. Got my degree, the lease ran out, I left for a job, and that was it.”

“It would have been nice of you to inform us you knew the Black Widow _before_ we left on the op,” Coulson reprimands.

“Didn’t know.” Clint says and shrugs at Coulson’s disbelieving look. "What? You think we go around handing each other business cards with our names and aliases on them? She was just Nat."

"So let me get this straight," Coulson recites, " _Just_ Nat, who happens to be a master assassin, _just_ drops in during your downtime, you let her _hang out_ for a few months and yet never figure out she's the Black Widow. But somehow, many years later when you're sent to kill her, you know her well enough to decipher that she's willing to come in and be recruited?"

Clint has to admit it sounds bad when it's laid out like that. "Pretty much."

"Barton..." Coulson drops his head with a sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose with his fingers. It's the closest to frazzled Clint has ever seen the other agent. 

“Look...I know it sounds off, but I swear I’m not lying to you. In hindsight, letting her get close to me in Dublin was pretty stupid. Nat could have killed me at any moment, but she didn’t. Plus I dare anyone in their early twenties to turn down steady sex with a beautiful woman who’s also willing to teach you a few survival techniques.” Clint looks back at where Natasha is still calmly answering Fury’s questions. 

“I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for Nat. She’s the one who told me, back in Dublin, that SHIELD was in the habit of recruiting former mercs.” Clint returns his gaze to Coulson and puts every ounce of sincerity he can into his words. “I told her then that I wasn’t sure if I was cut out to be a loner, a mercenary only out for myself. It just took me a few more years to finally do something about it. I think she wants that same chance. Nat must have known we were after her - maybe not the who exactly, but that it was SHIELD. She was nervous about leaving herself out in the open, but did it anyway as a sign to us. I don’t think she planned to come in this soon.”

“You’re saying that, if it hadn’t been you on that rooftop, she would have just shown herself and disappeared?” Clint nods at Coulson’s conclusion. “Like some sort of cryptic assassin message?”

“I dropped you guys messages for over a year before Fury came and got me,” Clint points out.

Coulson concedes the point with a small nod. "Will you tell me what tipped you off?”

“Do I have to?” Clint asks in return, already knowing the answer. Coulson is not the type of man who plays with loyalties lightly.

“No.” They watch Fury and Natasha for a little longer until the senior agent speaks again. “Alright. I believe you.” 

“Alright? Really? That’s it?” Clint responds before really thinking about it. 

“I have no reason to believe you’re not being truthful,” Coulson replies easily. “I may think you’re a lucky idiot, but I don’t think you’d lie to me or to SHIELD.”

“Cool! Can we keep her?” Clint grins.

“She’s not a stray puppy, Barton,” Coulson says and Clint shudders.

“Do not ever tell Nat that I suggested anything close to that,” Clint pleads. “I like my genitalia attached to my body, thank you very much.”

“I was under the impression you liked your genitalia attached to other people’s bodies,” Coulson says dryly and starts to walk out before pausing at the door. “And yes, we get to keep her.”

Clint grins through the glass at Natasha even though she can’t see him. Maybe he’s starting to like Coulson after all.


	4. Attraction and Reaction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint saying he found Phil Coulson attractive was like saying he thought flowers were pretty or that baby animals were cute.

The problem with Clint admitting he no longer vehemently disliked Coulson is that it allowed his initial attraction to resurface. Then again, Clint saying he found Phil Coulson attractive was like saying he thought flowers were pretty or that baby animals were cute. It’s a fact, but Clint isn’t going to start pining after Coulson any more than he’s likely to open a flower shop or start keeping stray puppies in his quarters. He does flirt lasciviously with the senior agent and openly admires the view because it’s fun and there’s really no reason not to.

It’s not that Clint believes all the rumors about Coulson not being human - most of them are beyond ridiculous in nature and several of the more rampant rumors are ones Clint started himself. It’s that Coulson spends a fair amount of energy keeping up the appearance of being a completely infallible SHIELD agent. He’s friendly, but not friends with the other agents outside of Fury and Hill. He’s comfortable and relaxed around Clint and Natasha, but never shares any personal information. It’s clear that Coulson prefers to keep his personal life separate from everything at SHIELD and Clint can respect that.

Even if Clint thought he had a chance to get Coulson into his bed, he wouldn’t risk rocking the boat. It scares him a little, how stable his life has become with Coulson and Nat and SHIELD. Natasha slides easily into their little strike team, her added skills complementing well with the two men’s. She doesn’t join them for every mission because it’s obvious that Natasha does her best work solo and Fury believes in using everyone to his best advantage. The missions that follow Natasha’s recruitment aren’t a cake-walk and far from injury-free, but nobody comes close to dying, so Clint still considers it an improvement from his past life.

Clint’s life beyond missions also seems to be hitting a previously unknown level of normalcy. Nat and Clint had basically decided back in Dublin that they weren’t each other’s Happily-Ever-After, so their relationship slides into the closest thing Clint has had to a sibling since...well...ever. He has a growing list of friends within the SHIELD ranks and Coulson somehow manages to convince Fury that giving Hawkeye his own troop of junior agents to train is actually a good idea. Life is good and Clint can’t imagine it getting better - until it does. 

It's a standard enough mission that triggers it. Natasha is sent in to infiltrate a domestic terrorist group's hideout - a huge monstrosity of a building set next to a sheer cliff and surrounded on three sides by tall evergreens. Clint is nestled amongst the branches as her lookout and backup with Coulson a few miles away, waiting with a helicopter for their extraction. It's all going according to plan when Clint catches a glimpse of something unexpected through one of the top floor windows. 

"Widow is clear," Clint relays over the comm as he sees Nat disappear into the nearest grove of trees. He takes one last glance at the building before he starts his climb down. "On my way down - no wait. Shit. We have a problem."

"What do you see, Hawkeye?" Coulson asks calmly. 

"Looks like we can add kidnapping to their list of atrocities, sir," Clint responds. 

Coulson doesn't ask Clint to clarify or if he's positive about what he's seen. They had both spent the night two towns over and watched the news footage about the missing four year old boy. 

"Permission for retrieval?" Clint requests and holds his breath. This is not part of their mission parameters and he can only hope that his faith in SHIELD is not unwarranted - they are not the monsters of Clint's past. 

"Granted," is Coulson's immediate reply and Clint lets out his breath at the same time he releases his grappling arrow. 

He slides silently onto the roof and scales down the side of the building until he's even with the window he'd seen the little boy through. Clint hardens his heart against the boy's wailing cries for his mother and waits for a full minute after he hears the door slam closed before he pries the window open and slips into the room. The boy is looking at him with wide eyes, but has stopped crying. 

"Uh...hi...um...Jeremy," Clint says tentatively, hoping he remembers the name correctly from the news footage. 

"Are you a superhero?" Jeremy asks in awe. 

"Sort of," Clint responds and holds out his hand. "I'm Hawkeye and I'm here to take you home, okay?"

Jeremy nods and places his little hand in Clint's just as the alarms start blaring. The little boy jumps into his arms and Clint stows his bow in favor of his sidearm as he stands. 

"Fu - udging heck, Coulson," he calls into the comm. "I'm gonna need evac."

"Understood," Coulson replies. "On our way."

Clint can hear the reassuring thrum if the rotors in the background of the comm line as he makes his way to the door and slowly opens it. There is no one in the hallway and he steps out and then into the stairwell, thankful that they'd put Jeremy in a room at the end of the hall. He tightens his hold on the boy and runs up the stairs to the roof. They burst out into the fading sunlight just as the helicopter rises into view a few feet above the rooftop. Clint has a split-second to appreciate how badass Coulson looks with his suit jacket billowing behind him in the open doorway of the Lakota before the first explosion rocks the building, followed quickly by several others. 

The explosives are on a remote detonator and the plan was to blow the place once they were safely at the extraction site. The premature detonation means that the terrorists had found the bombs and had been stupid enough to try and disarm them. It also means that Clint has less than thirty seconds before the entire building crumbles down the cliff and into the river below. 

Clint already knows that the myriad of antennas and satellite dishes on the roof make it impossible for the helicopter to fly closer, so it takes him very little time to come up with a plan of action. 

"Keep it steady, Williams," he calls out to the pilot before turning to Jeremy and holstering his gun. "Hold on tight kiddo."

Clint take four quick steps back before taking off at a dead run toward the edge if the roof. He springs off the roof and launches himself in the air, his entire body extended like he’d been taught and automatically compensates for the extra weight on his right side as he stretches out with his left arm. 

“Damn it! Barton!”

Clint’s hand wraps around the skid and holds firm as Coulson’s hand comes down to clamp around his wrist.

“I’ve got them,” Coulson says to the pilot who begins to bank them carefully away from the building now sliding down the cliff face.

Clint beams up at his handler. “Just like the trapeze, sir. I’m good. Grab the kid.”

Coulson releases his vice-like grip on Clint’s wrist and pulls Jeremy into the helicopter. Clint is still grinning as he hauls himself inside and shuts the door behind him. The kid runs back into his arms with an awestruck smile.

“That was awesome, Hawkeye! Can we do it again?”

Clint laughs, hearing Coulson bite back a string of curses. “We’ll have to ask your mom, kiddo,” Clint responds and gives Jeremy a quick hug. 

Five hours later, Jeremy is back with his parents and the team is back at HQ. Natasha’s expression had barely flickered when she’d seen their extra passenger, who clung to Hawkeye and refused to let go until he saw his parents. Fury has thankfully pushed the debrief until the morning and Clint is eagerly anticipating a nice, long shower. He is not happy to find Coulson lurking in the hallway outside him room.

“A word, Agent Barton,” Coulson says as Clint walks up to his door and unlocks it.

“Whatever it is, Coulson, it can wait until the debrief tomorrow,” Clint responds and walks in without looking to see Coulson’s reaction.

Clint strips off his vest as he strides across his quarters toward the bathroom, managing to pull the curtain back and turn on the water before a strong hand grabs his shoulder and spins him around. His back makes a dull thud as it hits the wall, Coulson’s hand cool against the center of Clint’s chest to keep him there. The archer’s protest dies on his lips as he sees the smoldering lust in Coulson’s eyes. He bites back a wanton moan - he’d be lying if he didn’t admit to fantasizing about this exact scenario. Coulson must see something positive in his expression because he surges forward and captures Clint’s mouth in a bruising kiss.

Clint thinks he should tease Coulson about finding his crazy antics hot, about rewarding bad behavior, but the thought refuses to solidify in his head. 

“Jesus, fuck,” Clint gasps as they break apart and Coulson starts trailing suckling kisses along the archer’s neck. “Please tell me you’re not under the influence of something or otherwise out of your mind.”

“I assure you I’m fully in control of all my faculties,” Coulson says as he runs a callused finger across Clint’s nipple. Clint does moan then and Coulson licks a stripe up his exposed neck.

“But you’d say that even if you _were_ under the influence,” Clint reasons.

Coulson suddenly takes a step back and Clint shivers when cool air rushes into the space between them. Clint wants to moan again at the sight of a disheveled and unhappy Coulson, lips wet and already slightly swollen.

“Do you want this to stop, Agent Barton?” Coulson asks.

“Fuck no,” Clint responds and grabs Coulson by the hips to pull him close again. The second kiss is no less desperate and bruising as the first.

It’s messy and uncoordinated, but they manage to pull their clothes off before stumbling into the shower - the water helping with the sweet slide of skin against skin. Clint takes a turn and presses Coulson against the tiled wall, lips finding a spot along the senior agent’s jaw, by his ear, that makes his entire body shudder. Clint pulls back slightly to take it in. He doesn’t think there’s anything more beautifully orgasm-inducing than watching Phil Coulson with his head thrown back, gasping as he spills into Clint’s hand.


	5. Status Quo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coulson is willingly compartmentalizing Clint into the personal life he so diligently keeps away from SHIELD - Clint is in equal parts deliriously happy, amazed, and turned-on beyond belief.

Clint isn’t sure how long they stand under the spray of the water catching their breaths, but he feels the exact moment that Coulson starts to pull himself back together. There is an imperceptible tightening of his previously lax muscles and Clint takes a step back to give him space. He watches as Coulson gives himself a cursory rinse before stepping out of the shower. Clint isn’t sure what’s expected of him, so he reaches for the shampoo and finishes the shower he’d originally planned on.

By the time he’s done and rubbing a towel over his hair in the bathroom doorway, Coulson is already shrugging on his suit jacket that is miraculously wrinkle free. Coulson pulls on his shirt cuffs and looks over at Clint, who hasn’t bothered trying to cover up.

“Is this when you tell me this can’t happen again?” Clint asks, more curious than concerned over what Coulson’s answer may be.

“No,” Coulson responds as if he’s talking about the weather and not the fallout from sharing mutually satisfying handjobs in the shower. “This is when I tell you that it’s best for both our reputations if this stays behind closed doors. Neither one of us can afford it getting out that you’re fucking your handler.”

There’s a wariness in Coulson’s eyes and Clint thinks he’s expected to say something about not caring about his reputation. “We didn’t actually get to the fucking part,” Clint says instead.

“Decide if you can agree to my terms and we can rectify that,” Coulson promises and steps back into Clint’s personal space. The senior agent puts his hand on the back of Clint’s neck and pulls him in for another fierce kiss - Clint would call it possessive if he didn’t know better - before walking out of the archer’s quarters.

Clint isn’t fully convinced any of this actually happened and isn’t just a very vivid dream, but he’s certain it won’t happen again despite Coulson’s promise. He doesn’t tell anyone about the interlude - not because of Coulson’s thinly-veiled threat, but because Clint believes in keeping his private life private. He’s never been the type to boast loudly about his conquests, like Woo, or wax poetic about his significant-other’s best features, like Sitwell. Clint also thinks that telling a past lover about a new one, no matter how close he and Nat are now, is a little tacky and a lot awkward, so he keeps it to himself and never expects a re-occurrence. It takes two months and their next op as just a team of two for Clint to realize how very wrong he is. 

They walk into the safehouse and take off in opposite directions to do a security sweep of the house. That chore accomplished, Clint makes his way back toward the kitchen, going over his mental inventory of what he’d seen in the pantry and coming up with dinner possibilities. He makes it as far as the hallway before he’s shoved indelicately against the wall. Clint’s response to the feeling of Coulson’s hand firm against the center of his chest Pavlovian - his heart rate jumps and he goes instantly half-hard in his pants without the older man touching any other part of him.

Coulson’s smirk is absolutely wicked when he sees Clint’s reaction. “Have you thought about my terms?” 

Clint blinks in surprise and only now realizes that Coulson never meant the shower to be a one-time deal. Coulson is willingly compartmentalizing Clint into the personal life he so diligently keeps away from SHIELD - Clint is in equal parts deliriously happy, amazed, and turned-on beyond belief.

“Yes,” Clint says with conviction.

“Yes, what?” Coulson asks.

“Yes, I’ll keep this a secret for as long as you need me to,” Clint clarifies and is rewarded by Coulson dropping his hand to move closer.

Clint expects this kiss to be just as desire-fueled and hungry as their previous ones, but it’s not. It’s slow and measured as if they have all the time in the world and maybe they do. They spend the night thoroughly learning each other’s bodies, finding the secret places that make them gasp and writhe and moan. Clint has to retract his earlier assertion because everything pales in comparison to sinking deep inside Phil and watching the normally stoic agent fly apart beneath him. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Outwardly, nothing changes - which Clint supposes is the reason for Coulson’s terms of secrecy. They continue to be a highly functioning team, with and without Natasha. Coulson doesn’t hesitate to point Clint at danger and Clint doesn’t think twice about rushing headlong into it. If they have new, more enjoyable, ways to celebrate a job well done, it’s nobody’s business but theirs. 

Clint has no way to define what they are, so he doesn’t try. They’re not dating. There are no hidden dinners out or thoughtful presents or anything approaching a romantic relationship. They check in on each other when they land in medical, but there are no lengthy vigils by each other’s bedside. They spend a lot of time together at HQ, but no more or less than before and no more than what would be expected of a handler and his charge. Most of SHIELD thinks they’re barely friends. 

But it’s also not just sex - there is too much of an undercurrent of friendship and genuine caring of each other’s well-being for that. They don’t just have sex and then leave the room. They get into the habit of sleeping in the same bed - or at least curled around each other when there isn’t a bed - on nearly all their missions, even if they’re too tired to do anything but sleep. Their post-mission celebrations are more than adequate motivation for Clint to come home with all of his limbs fully functional and Phil doesn’t hide his appreciation of that positive side effect. When Phil comes back from his first dealings with Tony Stark nearly twitching with tension, Clint quietly strips him down and spends hours making sure Stark is the last thing on Phil’s mind. 

Calling it friends-with-benefits seems both too casual and too fraught with hidden landmines. Clint thinks it’s better to leave it unlabeled and unburdened with unnecessary expectations. Whatever this is between them, it works and Clint is more than happy to let it run its course.

Five months after the “I am Iron Man!” debacle, Clint comes to Coulson with a letter he received the day before.

“What’s this?” Coulson asks when Clint hands him the envelope. 

“It’s an invitation,” Clint says and makes a motion with his hand for Coulson to open it. He keeps talking before the older man can unfold the paper. “It’s a personal invitation for Dr. J. William Walsh to attend the Stark Expo.”

“A _handwritten_ invitation from Tony Stark,” Coulson points out, scowling down at the signature as if he could somehow set fire to the man who wrote it.

Clint rubs the back of his neck a little nervously. “It’s...uh...not the first letter I’ve received from Tony Stark. Most are just increasingly generous bribes to come work for him.” 

Coulson very carefully refolds the letter and slips it back into the envelope before placing it on his desk and stacking his hands on top. “You’ve received job offers to work at Stark Industries?” he asks.

“All of which I’ve declined and will continue to decline,” Clint responds before flopping down in one of the guest chairs. “But this...this is something else, Coulson. Some of the greatest scientific minds are going to be at the Expo.”

“And you want to attend,” Phil says unnecessarily. 

“I want to attend,” Clint agrees. “Not the whole thing, just a few days near the start of the expo actually. It’s supposed to be this huge brainstorming session about alternate energy sources.”

“Does Dr. Walsh even exist outside of a few journal articles?” Coulson asks.

Clint looks at Coulson in disbelief. “You once had me undercover in China as a female masseuse. I think I can pull off an eccentric mathematician without getting caught.”

“That was a good op,” Coulson says, allowing himself a small smile at the memory and lets it widen as Clint glares. 

“You weren’t the one in four inch heels all day,” Clint responds tightly. “And I still think Nat was faking the flu.”

“You can’t fake a hundred and four fever,” Coulson says.

“Nat could,” Clint disagrees and Coulson pauses in thought for a moment before nodding. 

“You’re right,” the other agent concedes, “she probably could.”

“Yeah. So about the expo...” Clint says to get them back on track. “Can I go?”

“I’m not your guardian,” Coulson replies. “You don’t need my permission to take off...okay, you do need my permission to take off. But you are allowed to request vacation time without needing my approval of what you do during your time off.”

“And my being around Stark doesn’t bother you?” Clint asks and watches as the corner of Phil’s eye twitches slightly. 

“Everything about Stark bothers me,” Coulson replies and then shakes his head. “But that shouldn’t keep you from attending the expo. Just make sure you let Natasha know you’ll be there so you don’t unexpectedly run into each other.”

“Thanks boss!” Clint grins.

“Don’t thank me until you’ve actually met the man,” Coulson says, “Although I’m a little afraid of what the two of you could think up in the same room. Just try not to blow anything up.”

Clint doesn’t bother making promises he can’t keep, so he just smiles and gets up to file his vacation form. It’s not much of a surprise that Clint never makes it to the expo - which is probably for the best considering he can’t be blamed for the explosions that do occur. Instead, he ends up in New Mexico not shooting at a Norse god and a giant metal robot. Coulson doesn’t apologize - unpredictability is part of their jobs - but Phil more than adequately makes up for it when they get back to New York. Clint can’t complain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In a lovely coincidence, the bit from "Fury's Big Week" that led to my writing the end of this chapter was posted on tumblr: [here](http://marvelsmarvels.tumblr.com/post/44287481766/furys-big-week-chapter-4).


	6. Unintended Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint watches as Coulson shuts the door and turns the lock, thumbing a button on his phone before dropping it near the threshold. He continues smirking as the older man advances on him, but lets himself be pulled in for a long kiss.
> 
> “Mmmm,” Clint says after, “If you want to keep my mouth otherwise occupied, I have a better idea.”

Everything changes after New Mexico. Fury promotes Natasha and Clint to level seven, officially moving them out of Coulson’s supervision and directly under the director. In hindsight, it’s one of many things that Clint wishes never happened. He wishes Fury hadn’t pulled him into strategy meetings to discuss the Avengers and their corresponding weaknesses and strengths. He wishes Hill hadn’t asked him for input on security measures for the Helicarrier. He wishes he’d listened to his gut and run far away from Project Pegasus. Most of all, Clint wishes he’d never come to the realization that, like an idiot, he’d let himself fall in love with Phil Coulson.

Clint thinks later that it’s complacency - he’d grown too used to things being on the good side of normal for once in his life, too used to trusting others to have his back - that makes him ignore the clench in his gut when Fury first tells the archer he’s headed to Pegasus. Complacency and loyalty for the man and the organization that had done so right by him these past few years. Nick tells Clint that watching the Tesseract and Selvig is important, that he’s the only man Fury trusts to do the job right, so Clint shoves his instincts away and follows the director to the Mojave Desert. He hides his unease well around the scientists and other agents, but it’s not a surprise that Coulson sees it immediately when he arrives at Pegasus two weeks later.

“Heya boss!” Clint greets as Coulson jumps out of the truck. Coulson’s eyes narrow slightly in concern, but knows better than to bring anything up out in the open. “You get your boy okay?”

“Yes,” Coulson answers and moves into the building with Clint falling in step beside him.

“Was meeting your boyhood hero all you dreamed it would be?” Clint asks cheekily.

“He was still quite frozen when I left,” Coulson replies evenly, but Clint can see him trying to fight a smile. Coulson had seen Captain America alright, maybe even touched the sleeping hero.

Clint smirks and then forces his face back to blandness - he’d learned a few things from his handler over the years - when Coulson stops walking and turns to face him.

“Go on,” the agent says with an exasperated motion of his hand. “Say it. You know you’re dying to.”

“What would I say?” Clint says, his face a perfect study in innocence. He thinks it earns him extra points when Coulson actually rolls his eyes. “There is absolutely no reason that popsicles or lollipops would have any bearing on this conversation.”

“You’re a child,” Coulson reprimands before he continues walking, but there’s no heat behind it and Clint finally lets his grin surface.

“No seriously, what did you do? Just stand around and watch him sleep?” Clint asks as he jogs to catch up. He laughs when Coulson doesn’t answer and precedes him into the empty office. “You did, didn’t you? That’s seriously creepy, man.”

Clint watches as Coulson shuts the door and turns the lock, thumbing a button on his phone before dropping it near the threshold. He continues smirking as the older man advances on him, but lets himself be pulled in for a long kiss.

“Mmmm,” Clint says after, “If you want to keep my mouth otherwise occupied, I have a better idea.”

He spins them around so that Phil is leaning against the desk before dropping to his knees. Clint reaches for Phil’s belt and looks up at him from underneath his lashes, licking his lips in anticipation of both the taste of Phil in his mouth and the knowledge that the other agent always reciprocates. He moans low in his throat at the first touch of velvety skin against his tongue, glad for the privacy that Phil’s phone guarantees as it sits by the door.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” Phil says from above him and Clint pauses for a moment. He doesn’t have a response, so Clint slides his mouth back down and focuses on the task at hand. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Are you going to tell me about it?” Coulson asks a bit later as they’re straightening their clothes and double checking to make sure they aren’t leaving any incriminating evidence behind. “Whatever’s bothering you.”

Clint sighs as he shrugs back into his jacket - Clint barely got Phil out of his pants, but the older man has a thing about Clint being shirtless for pretty much any sexual activity. “It’s...hard to explain. Just a bad feeling, you know?”

“Is this the merc instincts you and Natasha are always going on about?” Phil asks and Clint really appreciates how much of this he _doesn’t_ have to explain.

“No,” Clint says. “Circus.”

That gets him a surprised eyebrow raise. It’s still rare for Clint to provide details about his past before joining the military - any records of Clint during that time have been lost to time, shoddy archiving, and fire. 

“There were just mornings when I’d wake up knowing in my gut it was going to be a bad day,” Clint explains. “And not bad performance bad, but someone falling off the trapeze or animals trampling trainers bad.”

“And this is how you feel now?” Coulson asks. “Like Budapest?”

“Worse,” Clint says and they both wince. “Selvig, the Tesseract, Phase 2...it just all feels like it’s a small step away from blowing up in our faces.”

“Anything concrete?” Coulson queries and Clint shakes his head. “But if anything -”

“Yeah, of course,” Clint agrees. Coulson nods and Clint begins providing his report of activities at the site since he arrived.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A little over two weeks later, there’s an energy surge from the Tesseract and Clint is thumbing his comm silently to signal Coulson before he fully registers the increased feeling of dread that washes over him. Selvig runs back into the room and throws a look of disgust up at Clint when Coulson walks in almost immediately behind him.

“Dr. Selvig?” Coulson asks calmly as the other scientists run around him to check their various instruments. Clint keeps his eye on the single screen showing the Tesseract’s energy levels. 

“I can contain it,” Selvig assures him. The scientist begins to look increasingly frazzled as Coulson doesn’t leave and the energy levels continue to climb. 

Fifteen minutes pass and Coulson flicks his eyes up to Clint’s position on the raised catwalk. Clint eyes take a quick survey of the other instruments and shakes his head minutely.

“Signal the evacuation,” Coulson says to one of the junior agents who had followed him into the room.

“Agent Coulson!” Selvig protests. “That’s unnecessary. I can stop it - contain it.”

“With all due respect, Dr. Selvig,” Coulson responds calmly. “This facility is filled with several decades’ worth of highly sensitive experiments, not to mention hundreds of agents and scientist. When one of the largest sources of power we’re playing with starts surging unexpectedly, I hope you don’t expect me to just close my eyes and wish for the best?” Coulson doesn’t give Selvig a chance to answer and turns to leave the room. “Someone get me Fury on the phone.”

 _That_ , Clint thinks, _is why I love that man._

All of the breath leaves Clint’s body in a rush when he realizes where his thoughts have taken him. He breathes in and out a few times, trying to calm the rising panic. This is definitely not the time to have this epiphany, but Clint can’t keep his mind from remembering all the happiness from the past year or keep his heart from surging with hope. 

Clint takes a few more deep breaths and forces himself to focus on what the scientists are saying - most of them are just rattling off measurements and readings and it’s clear none of them know what the fuck is going on - he’ll have plenty of time to think about this later. Clint doesn’t know he’d already drawn the attention of the God of Mischief. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The next four days are the worst of his life. Most of his mind is taken over with the need to obey, to follow, to protect Loki and the Tesseract. The part of himself that is aware but lacks control screams and rails as he watches his hands nearly destroy everything he’s ever cared about. By the time Clint watches the Quinjet take off from Stark Tower with a platoon full of SHIELD agents guarding a shackled and sedated Loki, all he wants to do is find a nice hole to hide in and sleep for the next four weeks - preferably with Phil.

“Shit. Nat,” Clint groans when he realizes what they’ve done. “That was probably our ride back to HQ.”

“Crap,” Natasha replies. “You couldn’t have thought of that five minutes earlier?”

“I’m the one with the mild concussion,” Clint reminds her.

“That’s always your excuse,” she fires back and Clint can’t really argue.

“Guess we’re walking then,” Clint says with a sigh.

“I could loan you a car and a driver,” Stark offers and the two SHIELD agents look at each other before shaking their heads.

“First off, do you actually live in the city?” Clints asks. “Because no New Yorker I know actually drives anywhere.”

“Second off, did you look down at all when you were flying around?” follows Natasha.

“Streets are pretty damaged,” Steve agrees. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to head with you to back to SHIELD.”

“Sure,” Clint shrugs. He didn’t really care as long as they got moving. “Let’s get a move on, I’d really like the docs to make sure there’s nothing left of Loki in here,” Clint adds tapping the side of his head. 

“Maybe I could go with you?” Bruce asks. “Anything residual would probably show up with the same signature as the Tesseract and I’ve already got that dialed in.”

Clint blinks in surprise. “Uh...sure doc. I’d...uh...appreciate your help.”

“I should check on the state of my brother,” Thor says.

“Guess we’re all going for a walk,” Stark says with a clap of his hands. Everyone turns to the billionaire with matching questioning looks. “What? We’re a team, right?”

Cap’s smile is blinding, it’s so bright. The rest of them look at each other with smaller smiles and nobody argues with Stark. They hit the street together as a team, some of their elation dampened by the devastation that greets them.

“Hey!” Stark says, forever optimistic. “I’m pretty sure that shawarma place I was talking about is on the way to SHIELD.”

They do stop for shawarma because they’re all hungry and the restaurant owners immediately jump to serve them when Stark peers in the door. Clint manages to get all of his food down before the exhaustion starts to really take its toll. He stands and looks around the gathered heroes.

“Uh...this was great, but I really need to get back to HQ,” Clint says. “Coulson’s probably having a fit that I haven’t checked in.”

The sudden tense silence in the room sends a shiver down Clint’s spine. 

Steve stands and looks at Clint solemnly. “I’m sorry soldier, but Agent Coulson didn’t make it.”


	7. Amongst Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What’s Clause 29?” Bruce asks.
> 
> “Voluntary termination,” Clint replies evenly and sees a flash of understanding and empathy in the doctor’s eyes. 
> 
> “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Bruce says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Slight mention/discussion of suicide in this chapter. (I apologize for not noting this earlier.)

Clint goes completely still.

“Wait. What?” Bruce asks. 

Clint reminds himself to breathe - in and out - slow, calm, and steady. His mind tells him that it's too early to panic, but it doesn't keep his heart from clenching painfully or stop the tendrils of fear from spreading at the thought of Phil being... _NO_. Clint can’t think that yet. 

He starts going through what he remembers of the attack on the Helicarrier. Loki’s mind control had been efficient in it’s execution - leaving enough of the person behind to maximize use of their experience and knowledge, but focusing them completely on Loki’s objectives. Clint had never been a rampant killer, no matter his reputation, and he hadn’t taken any lives while under Loki’s control unless it was absolutely necessary to the objective. But just because Clint hadn't seen Coulson doesn't mean someone else hadn't --

“Agent Coulson was killed on the Helicarrier,” Tony says, more subdued than Clint would have thought possible for the billionaire. 

“I saw with my own eyes as my brother speared him through the chest,” Thor adds. “The Son of Coul was a brave warrior.”

Clint’s flinch is stalled by two fingers pressed gently to the back of his hand. He doesn’t dare look down at Natasha, but the small touch is enough to banish the panic and release the tension that had been building since Steve's announcement. There’s a flicker of movement by the door and Clint looks up with a genuine smile.

“Hey Nick!” he greets the SHIELD director. “Here to give us a lift to HQ?”

Fury closes his eye for a brief moment, but it’s enough for Clint to see the relief it conveys. “Good to see your eyes back to the right color, Barton.”

“Sorry about the...” Clint taps two fingers to his chest and waits for a response.

“Appreciate it not being...” Fury twists two of his fingers together and taps the center of his forehead and a little of the fear returns - Coulson is alive, but not out of danger. “We’ve got some of the damage cleared out. Transport’s about half a block down.”

Everyone else at the table stands, but Stark stops before they can walk out of the restaurant.

“Wait a minute!” he says, spinning to face Clint and Natasha, who were bringing up the rear, and shaking an accusing finger at the archer. “We were talking about Coulson - you were upset and now you aren’t. What the hell is going on?”

The two SHIELD agents just look blandly back at Stark, who lets out a frustrated huff and turns back to Fury. “Is Coulson actually dead?” Tony asks.

“Agent Coulson died on the Helicarrier,” the director responds calmly.

“That’s interesting wording,” Steve points out and Stark looks at him in surprise.

“Is Agent Coulson dead _now_?” Bruce asks.

Fury doesn’t respond for a long moment and Clint wonders how he plans to dig out of this one. He's confident that Fury has good reason for the deception, but experience has taught him that one lie often leads to ten more. Clint has always been fond of the truth and he tilts his head slightly, hoping to convey that to the director. 

“Agent Coulson died on the Helicarrier,” Fury repeats, “but he was resuscitated in time to prevent any lasting damage. He’s currently in stasis waiting for his heart and lungs to be regenerated.” He holds up a hand when Steve and Tony open their mouths to speak. “Sometimes, the ends do justify the means. Considering that all of us and New York are still standing, I do not regret my decision to bend the truth a little. If you have issue with that, I’d appreciate you waiting to voice your opinions until we get back to HQ.”

Fury walks out with a dramatic swish of his coat and Clint has to clench his jaw to keep from grinning. Nat, Clint, and the others follow and they make it back to HQ without further arguments. Fury and the others immediately split off toward one of the conference rooms, but Clint stops, torn between wanting to find out what happened on the carrier, checking on Coulson, and making sure Loki's completely out if his head. He decides that the last is the highest priority and turns toward Medical - Clint can check on Coulson after he's cleared. 

Clint gets part way down the hallway before he realizes that Bruce has opted to walk with him. He looks over at the scientist in surprise. 

“I didn’t even know he was supposed to be dead,” the scientist says with a shrug. “Seems silly for me to stand around and watch people yell at Fury. He was just doing his job. There are much worse things he could have done.”

“That’s pretty understanding of you, doc,” Clint points out.

“I’ve seen bad military,” Bruce responds. “Fury’s not it.”

Clint gives him an approving nod and can’t help thinking he’s going to like working with Dr. Banner.

They walk the rest of the way down to Medical in companionable silence, receiving surprised glances from everyone they pass. Only a few people react with fear, which they both ignore, but Clint has to duck his head when several of the agents’ faces transition from shock to genuine smiles of relief and welcome upon seeing the archer. Clint thinks it would be much easier to deal with fear and anger. He’s not sure how to handle their acceptance and keeps his head down until they reach Medical. 

The Medical staff aren’t at all phased when Bruce and Clint walk in - likely forewarned by Fury. Bruce startles when one of the nurses walks up and hands him a lab coat. 

“It helps tell us apart from the riff raff,” she offers as an explanation before turning to Clint. “And you, Troublemaker, go sit down before you fall down.” 

The nurse points to one of the exam tables, but Clint pauses before walking over. “Coulson?”

“Alive and stable,” she responds and gives Clint’s arm a quick squeeze before moving away. “Good to have you back on our side, Hawkeye.”

Clint ducks his head again and hops up on the table. He gets his blood drawn and receives a cursory physical examination while the other doctors confir with Bruce about the gamma radiation. They’re just setting up a portable spectrometer when Sitwell and Woo come bursting into the room. 

“Fuck! I’m glad you’re alive,” Jasper says after pulling Clint off the table and into a rough hug. “Glad I didn’t have to shoot your ass, either.”

“Like you’d have a chance of hitting me,” Clint responds with a grin before turning to Woo and then glancing down to the arm currently cradled in a sling. “Sorry about the shoulder.”

“Nah,” Woo says, reaching over to cuff Clint on the shoulder good-naturedly. “Didn’t hit anything vital - sling’s just for show, mostly. Knew it was a risk going for the alarm with those super eyes of yours. I have a feeling the other mercs with you would have done much worse than pin me to the wall with an arrow. Plus it kept me clear when you blew the comm tower.”

“I still can’t believe you managed to steal a Quinjet from the gamma site,” Sitwell says before Clint can apologize again. “Why would you go through all that trouble for uniforms and one of our jets?”

“Carrier’s external sensors filter out other SHIELD aircraft,” Clint explains. “Security measure to prevent friendly fire. It’s how I got close enough to take out the engine.”

“Damn. I never would have thought of that,” Jasper says unashamedly. “We’re all so fucking glad you’re on our side.”

“You should all hate me for trying to kill everyone,” Clint protests.

“You didn’t try to kill shit,” Woo responds. “Hill’s had us watching video footage nonstop. We all know there were much more destructive ways for all of it to have gone down. Besides, we’re using up all our hate on the maniac with the horns.” 

“Hill’s probably gonna pick your brain for a month,” Jasper warns. “I swear she’s planning ‘attack the Helicarrier’ simulations already.”

Bruce clears his throat to get their attention before the conversation can continue. “We’re ready.”

“Dr. Bruce Banner,” Clint says, motioning between the scientist and his friends - a little amazed he can still call them friends after the past four days. “Agents Jasper Sitwell and Jimmy Woo.” 

The three men shake hands and Clint moves to stand in front of the spectrometer. It doesn’t take long for Clint to see that the results are not clean. 

“There’s residual radiation around your brain stem,” Bruce says apologetically and shows Clint the display. “It’s decaying pretty rapidly, but I can’t say what effect it will have while it’s still there.”

Clint looks over at Sitwell, who is the senior agent in the room aside from Clint. “Agent Sitwell, you need to take me into custody.”

“Fuck that,” Jasper responds.

“Well said, Agent Sitwell,” Fury says striding into the room. 

“Are you all forgetting that I shot my way out of one SHIELD facility and attacked two others over the last four days?” Clint asks the room at large. 

“I understand your need to get some rest, Agent, but I do not concur that you need to be taken into custody,” Fury says and holds up a hand to forestall Clint’s protest. “Everything’s a mess around here and unless you tell me you can still feel Loki controlling you, I can’t afford to lose another of my best agents right now.”

Clint winces at the small reminder about Coulson, but doesn't want to risk being the cause of any more useless destruction.

“Two and half days,” Clint says and misses Bruce’s look of surprise at his pronouncement. “Based on the current rate of decay, it should be gone in two and half days. I remain confined to quarters and under constant monitoring during that time or I surrender myself to the WSC now. And if at any time the decay stops or reverses, I invoke the right to Clause 29.”

“I’ll agree to the first. And we’ll talk about the second _if_ it comes to that,” Fury counters.

“Permission to be Agent Barton’s shadow?” Sitwell requests and Clint shakes his head vehemently.

“You’re supposed to be on your honeymoon,” Clint protests. “It was bad enough I missed the wedding. I don’t want Sammy hating me forever.”

“Trust me, Sammy was way more upset she couldn’t introduce you to her fourth cousin than she was about us postponing,” Jasper answers. “My wife’s great like that. And you totally dodged a bullet with the cousin.”

“Permission granted, Agent Sitwell. Woo - I assume you’ll want second watch?” Fury asks.

“Yes, sir,” Woo agrees.

“Done. Keep me appraised of any new developments,” Fury orders and leaves the room in a swirl of black leather before Clint can voice any more concerns.

“What’s Clause 29?” Bruce asks.

“Voluntary termination,” Clint replies evenly and sees a flash of understanding and empathy in the doctor’s eyes. 

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Bruce says. “I’ll help them rig up the spectrometer to monitor your quarters.”

“Thanks doc,” Clint responds sincerely and shakes the doctor’s hand. 

Clint walks out of Medical with Sitwell and decides he’s more in need of a long shower than food. He washes away four days of grime as Sitwell yells a summary of the wedding and reception through the open doorway. Woo brings them food from the cafeteria, but beats a hasty retreat when Clint agrees to see a slideshow of all 300 wedding pictures. The relative monotony of seeing picture after picture helps quiet Clint’s mind a little, but it still takes Clint a long time to fall asleep once Sitwell has positioned himself out in the hallway. 

Despite the bone-numbing exhaustion, Clint’s brain is buzzing with everything that’s happened and is still unsure of how to handle the unexpected aftermath. Clint had come to SHIELD looking for comrades in arms, never expecting the level of friendship and trust he’s found. The Avengers actually seem to be coming together as a team and they had welcomed him without question. Coulson is hurt, but alive and Clint can only be thankful for being given a second chance to explore his epiphany from four days ago. Change is swirling all around him and Clint tells himself it’s okay to hope for the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I toyed around with how I was going to "fix-it" (even though CoulsonLives! is now canon) and happened to watch an episode of "Through the Wormhole" called [Can we Resurrect the Dead?](http://youtu.be/PvLzoEdcgpY)
> 
> This is where the basic idea of Coulson being in stasis and regrowing his organs came from. The science is there today and it seemed like something that SHIELD would be all over - maybe a little further than what is being shared with the rest of the world. ;)


	8. Moving Forward, Moving On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They cling to each other for a long moment, savoring the aftermath, and enjoying the familiarity of being together.

The residual radiation is completely gone at the end of the two and half days. Clint and Natasha are in his quarters playing darts when Bruce comes by in person to deliver the news. They go out to a nearby diner to celebrate his freedom and are quickly joined by the rest of the Avengers. Stark tries and fails to look innocent, but it’s clear the whole thing was planned and Clint can’t help blushing at all the attention. 

The shared lunch turns into a send off party for Thor, Loki, and the Tesseract later that afternoon. Clint feels a small twinge of unhappiness as the Avengers all shake hands and part ways, but Bruce is staying close, it’s never difficult to know where Stark is at all times, and Steve has promised to be back in a few months. Clint and Natasha return to SHIELD HQ and wave at a now-awake Coulson through the window in the isolation ward. 

Coulson gets steadily better over the next few months and Clint has no idea what to do about their previously secret relationship. Now that Clint has admitted to himself how he feels, he knows he won’t be happy keeping whatever they have ambiguous. He needs to talk to Coulson and take the risk of ruining one of the best things in his life with the hope that, for once, the love Clint feels is equally returned. 

Just when Clint decides it's time to bite the bullet and start the conversation, Coulson retreats. Never one to admit any weaknesses, Phil makes it clear that he prefers to get through his recovery on his own. It hurts, but Clint gives Coulson space and resigns himself to the possibility that this may be the answer to the question he hasn’t voiced.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Four months after the Chitauri attack, Clint finds himself moving into what Stark is now calling Avengers Tower along with Coulson and Natasha - Bruce had been there from the beginning and Steve had moved in upon returning to New York the month before. Fury tells Clint it's good for team solidarity and Clint goes along because Natasha tells him he has no choice. In the grand scheme of things, it takes the Avengers a surprisingly short amount of time to adjust to living under the same roof.

A few weeks later, Clint is sitting in the main living room, nursing a beer, and waiting for the late game to come on when Stark suddenly flops down next to him on the sofa. 

“So...” Stark says. Clint doesn’t respond because he knows well enough by now that Tony doesn’t need any extra prodding to talk.

“SHIELD R&D told me you design all your bows, quivers, and arrows,” Tony continues, clearly digging for information. Clint continues to look at the commentators on the screen in front of him. “I snuck a look at the designs and the equations looked familiar.”

“Equations can look familiar?” Clint asks, finally looking at Stark.

“They can if you’ve been staring at them for years and wondering why one of the greatest mathematical minds in the world refuses to work for you, yes,” Tony replies.

“Did you ever consider I already had a job?” Clint responds, ignoring the compliment. He doesn't bother continuing the lie - it’s clear that Tony already knows all about him being J. William Walsh. 

“Aw come on!” Tony exclaims. “You can’t possibly tell me you prefer working for SHIELD over Stark Industries? I can guarantee our benefits package is _much_ better and I’ll...ah...I’ll buy you that McLaren you were eyeing on Top Gear the other night.”

Clint grins, but his answer is interrupted by Coulson’s voice from the doorway. “Agent Barton, a word.”

“Sure thing, boss,” Clint says jumping up from the sofa. “Later, Tony.”

“I’ll buy you two! I’ll build you your own racetrack!” Tony yells as Clint follows Coulson out of the room and to the elevator. 

Clint is only mildly surprised when they stop on their floor and Coulson walks to stand patiently by Clint’s door. Their combined floor and Natasha’s room are the only places in the Tower fully shielded from both Tony and JARVIS’s surveillance. Clint smiles to himself, wondering if Tony is aware that the encryption algorithm he’s been trying to crack was written by Clint. 

Coulson precedes him into the room and Clint isn’t prepared to be pressed against the closed door with a firm hand on his chest. Phil doesn’t bother waiting for a response from Clint and steps forward until their bodies are flush against one another. The older man kisses Clint, rough and possessive, giving him the impression that he’s being claimed. After months believing he’d never have this again, Clint can’t help giving in and kissing back. 

“Have you been cleared for this?” Clint asks between kisses as he pulls at Phil’s clothes.

“A week ago,” Phil responds, hips bucking against Clint’s hands when the archer goes for Phil’s belt and nips at the sensitive spot on his jaw. “I need you inside me, _now_ ,” Phil growls.

Clint can’t argue and pushes them toward his bedroom, hoping fervently that he’d unpacked the condoms and lube. They thankfully find the supplies in his bedside table and they fall, naked, onto the large bed. Clint revels in the feeling of Phil still wonderfully alive beneath him, skin warm under Clint’s hands and clenching tight around him as they both tumble over the abyss.

They cling to each other for a long moment, savoring the aftermath, and enjoying the familiarity of being together. Clint finally levers himself off Phil to clean them up before collapsing back onto the bed, unapologetically wrapping his arms around Phil and placing one of his hands on the large scar still healing in the center of the older man's chest. He tightens his hold when Phil moves to get up.

“Stay,” Clint asks softly. 

“The other Avengers...” Phil protests.

“The others never come up to our floor and you can shower in your own room in the morning,” Clint cuts in. “Stay.”

Phil hesitates, but eventually settles back against Clint. The archer releases the breath he was holding and feels lighter than he has since before Pegasus. He can’t imagine in that moment that it’s all going to go so wrong two days later.

It starts off as a normal day at HQ. They’re sitting a foot and a half apart on Coulson’s office couch with junior agent reports spread before them on the table. Clint has just finished embellishing his recount of their runs through the SHIELD training gauntlet when Steve walks in. Coulson’s reaction - stiffening and jumping even further away - brings an unwanted clarity to their whole relationship.

Coulson isn’t hiding them because of the sex. He’s hiding them because of Clint.

“So we’re not even allowed to be friends?” Clint asks after Steve leaves, unable to look up at Coulson. “I mean, I know you don’t want people to know we’re sleeping together, but I thought...”

“Clint, we’ve talked about this,” Coulson says testily and Clint calls himself every kind of fool for ever believing he deserved a happy ever after - that Coulson would want Clint for anything other than some fun in bed. No matter how far he gets in life, Clint is always going to be that orphaned kid nobody wants. 

“Actually, we haven’t. You wanted to keep it a secret, so I went along with it because you asked me to. I’d always told myself you were just a private person, that you weren’t...” Clint trails off, not trusting himself to say he’d always believed they were more than just fuck buddies. He sighs and finally looks up at Coulson. “I never wanted to believe you were ashamed of me. Because I know I’ve done a lot of shameful things in my life, but this wasn’t one of them. At least I didn’t think so. And maybe I just assumed that, if I believed it, you would too.”

“I’m not ashamed of you,” Phil retorts. Clint really wants to punch him in the face, but settles for a bitter laugh instead. 

“Yeah,” he says, standing. “I don’t think either one of us believes that anymore.”

“Clint...” Coulson tries and Clint knows he has to get out of this office before he makes a fool of himself. 

“Nah, it’s okay, really. Not your fault, sir,” Clint says and tries a smile. “You’ve never been shy about calling this what it is. My fault for imagining it was more. Sorry I ruined it, but I...uh...I don’t think this is going to keep working for me.” 

Clint stoops down to collect the papers off the coffee table, pushing what remains of the Clint who was stupid enough to believe in love into a box and stepping into the calming facade of Hawkeye. 

“I’ll have the updated reports on your desk by the morning. Have a good night, sir.”

Clint walks out and tells himself not to look back. It’s fitting, he thinks, that Coulson doesn’t follow him.


	9. Clarity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint feels like his heart is breaking in two, but he can't keep torturing himself with the shallow surface of a relationship when what he feels, what he needs, is so much deeper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point, I'm going to highly suggest you read [Resurrection](http://archiveofourown.org/works/682238) before reading this chapter.

The next three months pass in a blur. Nobody seems to notice any change between Clint and Coulson. They live in the same building, go on the same missions with the Avengers, but never interact on any level outside what is absolutely necessary. Clint suspects that the others, with the exception of Natasha, think they’re barely friends. 

Clint keeps up appearances with Coulson and starts spending more time with the other Avengers. He also thinks hard about Tony’s continued offers for a job within Stark Industries as he spends more time down in the lab. Despite the increasingly escalating bribes from Stark, it's Bruce who ends up dragging Clint down to the lab the first time, peppering him with questions until Clint is finally comfortable answering freely. It’s tempting to imagine himself leaving SHIELD and using the education he’s worked so hard to achieve. 

But then Clint sits in on meetings with Fury and Hill, attends poker nights with Sitwell and the other agents, or feels the heady rush of another accomplished mission and is reminded how much he enjoys working for SHIELD - that he’s always had a place in SHIELD without Coulson, maybe despite Coulson. Clint isn’t willing to give that up, even if it still tears him up inside to have Coulson so close and yet so untouchably far.

It’s a blessedly slow time for the Avengers and they have a small, celebratory dinner for Thor and Jane before they leave for their wedding on Asgard. The happy event forces Clint to do some thinking. Despite his resolution not to look back, Clint is still holding onto hope that Coulson will have a change of heart. He lays in bed every night - his heart and body still aching for the man sleeping soundly across the hall - wondering if a sexually satisfying relationship is all he can really expect in life. If tonight is an example that love is possible in the midst of all the craziness, then maybe it was just time to stop expecting it from Phil, no matter how much it hurt to let go. 

When Clint sees Coulson sitting with Steve in the kitchen the next morning, looking completely unaffected and uncaring of Clint’s appearance, he realizes that it’s time to gain some distance. Bruce had mentioned a scientific conference in San Diego and Clint still hadn’t taken his vacation time. Hanging out with Bruce and being clear across the country from Coulson sounds perfect - which is, of course, when Coulson looks up and tells Clint he’s been assigned to a new op leaving in a few hours. 

Clint tries not to let his frustration show and leaves immediately for HQ to get his gear ready for the op. At least the mission is just over the border into Canada and Coulson can run the op from HQ, so there’s no strained silence to worry about filling on the flight out. Hawkeye is running point, scouting a building being used by Hydra as some sort of lab. It looks like a standard Hydra installation until one of the techs back at HQ finds some strange energy readings coming from inside the building.

“You have a go to investigate,” Coulson says over the comm and Clint ignores the clench in his gut from hearing the other man’s voice.

“Hawkeye leaving position and entering the building,” Clint confirms.

“Alpha team is seven minutes out,” Coulson reminds him. It’s also Coulson’s way of telling him that he’ll keep the team back if Clint signals that it’s necessary. 

“Roger, that. Going silent.” Clint pushes all thoughts of Coulson out of his mind and enters the building.

It becomes immediately apparent that whatever Hydra was doing here, they’re packing up and leaving. All Clint encounters are empty rooms and bits of equipment littering the floors. He makes his way quickly to the lower level and finds several trucks getting ready to drive out of the building. Clint sees a space underneath one of the trucks he can use to stow away, but it’s barely big enough for him, let alone his bow and quiver. Without much time to think of a different plan, Clint carefully leaves his equipment behind along with his primary tracker and zips his secondary in his vest sliding into the small space. The trucks drive off and Clint’s proximity to the rumbling tires makes it impossible for him to hear the building collapsing behind them. 

The trucks stop driving after about thirty minutes, but Clint is stuck underneath it for another thirty until the sounds of unpacking stop and the last of the footsteps fade away. He rolls out from under the truck, ignoring his protesting muscles, and slips between several crates to stretch and take stock of the situation. Clint taps his comm, but gets no response. His left-behind equipment should have been easy to find, so Clint assumes that the Alpha team must have encountered some resistance back at the other building. He pulls sedative darts and a mini blowgun out of a pocket and walks silently toward the doorway - might as well do some exploring while he’s got time to kill. 

Clint shakes his head in disappointment when he realizes there are no guards stationed around the garage, but he takes advantage of it and moves quietly into the main portion of the building. Most of the rooms he finds are empty, save for some unpacked crates. One room contains several chemical tanks and Clint takes the time to check their contents, but there’s nothing more volatile than a few canisters of sleeping gas. He still hasn’t encountered any Hydra soldiers or scientists.

At the end of the hallway, Clint finds what looks like a control room with a single guard stationed at a bank of monitors. A well-placed dart takes care of the guard and Clint has to once again shake his head at Hydra’s complacency when he gets a good look around. The monitors show that everyone on-site is gathered for some sort of meeting or rally a few floors up. The room itself controls everything in the building from alarms to ventilation to communications to...ventilation. Clint smiles to himself and gets to work.

Within an hour, all of the Hydra soldiers and scientists are sleeping peacefully inside the tightly-locked building and Hawkeye is up on the roof, twirling a gas mask around his finger, and waiting patiently for extraction. Clint continues to tap his comm periodically, but his patience starts wearing thin as more time passes. At just under three hours since his last communication with HQ, Clint concludes there is no extraction team coming and climbs into the helicopter Hydra conveniently left on the roof. Flying into US airspace is not going to be easy, but Clint is too busy being angry to come up with other options. 

Regardless of whether the Alpha team had found his bow, quiver, and tracker, SHIELD protocol dictates a switch to the secondary tracker for all agents missing for over two hours. There is only one explanation for why Clint has been left sitting by himself at a Hydra facility - Coulson.

By the time Clint gets through the minefield of US airspace and lands at HQ, he’s seeing red. He barely acknowledges the ground crew and almost barrels right into Sitwell, too intent on finding Coulson to see the red eyes and shocked expression on his friend’s face.

“Where the fuck is Coulson?” Clint demands.

“Co-conference room 12B,” Jasper stammers. “Wait! Clint! Where the he--”

Clint continues to stride down the hallway and doesn’t turn back at Sitwell’s cry. Clint is already yelling before he’s even stepped fully into the room.

“What the actual fuck, Coulson?!” Clint glares as Coulson spins around from where he’s leaning against the table. Clint doesn’t notice the other people in the room. “Where the hell was my backup and the extraction team? Do you know how fucking hard it is to fly a stolen helicopter into US airspace?”

All of Clint’s anger disappears when he finally realizes that Coulson is deathly pale and visibly shaking. 

“Hey...you okay, Phil?” Clint asks gently. “You don’t look so good.”

Phil holds out his hand, palm turned up, toward Clint. 

“Clint,” Coulson says, his voice sounding raw and broken in a way that Clint has never heard before. 

Clint steps up and doesn’t think twice about placing his hand in Phil’s and is completely shocked when he’s pulled into the older man’s arms. If anything, Phil’s shaking gets more pronounced as he clutches at Clint. The archer can’t do anything but wrap his own arms around Phil and attempt to reassure him. 

“Oh! Hey, Phil. It’s okay. What’s wrong?” Clint asks, looking up at the room and finding Natasha. “Nat? What the hell is going on?”

“We thought you were dead, you idiot,” Nat responds with a suspicious sniffle and then cuffs Clint in the back of the head. “Don’t do that again.”

“Ow!” Clint cries, ducking his head into Phil’s shoulder. “How the hell is this my fault?”

“Everything’s your fault, Barton,” Tony says before walking over to pat Clint awkwardly on the shoulder. Clint looks over and notices that Tony’s smile looks a little watery. 

“SHIELD really needs to work on their definition of dead,” the billionaire continues and it does nothing to help Clint’s confusion. “I need shawarma. Anyone else need shawarma?”

“I could eat,” Bruce responds before smiling happily at Clint. “Glad you’re not dead, Clint.”

“Good to have you back, Hawkeye,” Steve says.

Clint gets distracted by Phil burying his face into Clint's neck and doesn't respond as the others file out of the room. Phil is still shaking slightly, so Clint starts rubbing slow, soothing circles on Phil’s back.

“Hey, Phil? You okay?” Clint asks after a moment. 

“No,” Phil replies with a quiver in his voice. “I thought you were dead.”

“Sorry?” Clint says for lack of anything more intelligent to say. 

The raw emotion in Phil's voice makes Clint's protective tendencies flare and that's when he realizes that they don't do this - that Phil doesn't want this from Clint. He forces himself to pull away, only to have Phil's arms tighten around him like a vice. 

“No. Please don’t,” Phil pleads. “Please don’t walk away again. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Clint feels like his heart is breaking in two, but he can't keep torturing himself with the shallow surface of a relationship when what he feels, what he needs, is so much deeper. 

“Phil, I can’t,” Clint says and manages to pull back enough to look into Phil’s eyes. The hurt he sees almost undoes him, but Clint holds firm. “I can’t do this. I can’t go back to the way we were. I can’t keep pretending I don’t want more than what you’re willing to give.”

Phil brackets Clint’s face with his hands to keep him from pulling away further. 

“I don’t want that either,” Phil says fervently and his eyes beg for Clint to believe him. “What I want is a chance to prove to you that I’m willing to give you everything.”

“Phil...” Clint needs to go, needs to get out of here before he succumbs. He’s not strong enough to resist what Phil is offering, but Clint isn’t ready to believe it won’t disappear when Phil has time to really think about what he’s saying. 

“I know you don’t believe me and I don’t deserve another chance,” Phil continues, “but I thought you were _dead_ and I...I didn’t know how to live without you.”

Phil’s voice chokes off on the last word and Clint wants, more than anything, to let himself believe. He pulls Phil’s hands from his face, telling himself that he needs to leave, but Clint can’t make himself let go - he’s not ready to walk away from the man he loves even if it means opening himself up to more heartache. 

“I want to go on a date, several dates,” Clint demands and he lets himself hope when Phil’s face smooths into a dazzling smile. “And we should probably keep sex out of the picture for a while.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes for you to trust me again,” Phil promises and Clint shakes his head.

“I never stopped trusting you,” Clint corrects. As angry as he had been earlier, Clint never really doubted that Coulson had a valid reason not to come for him. 

Phil pulls one of his hands out of Clint’s grip and places it gently, almost reverently, in the center of Clint’s chest. “Not with this. This I have to earn.”

The significance of the action isn’t lost on Clint and his eyes go wide with disbelief. “You really mean that.”

“I do,” Phil says sincerely and Clint wonders if the older man can feel the near-painful thudding of Clint’s heart under his hand. 

Clint gives in and leans forward to place his lips softly on Phil’s. It’s not quite forgiveness, but a promise to make the attempt.


	10. Letting Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And now Phil wants a second chance? For more than what you were before?” Natasha asks and Clint nods. “Do you believe him?”
> 
> “I want to,” Clint says honestly

Clint feels silly for being nervous. 

Phil had asked for three days to prepare for their first official date. With the fallout from the Hydra base Clint had captured single-handedly, it’s actually the first night they haven’t spent wading through confiscated equipment and interrogation transcripts. Clint tells himself for the hundredth time that it’s just dinner, something they’ve done a million times on missions and HQ. It shouldn’t be any different - they’re still Clint and Phil - but there’s a newness to the entire situation that leaves Clint nervous and a little scared.

“You look nice,” Nat says as she enters the room and sees Clint standing in the living room.

Clint smooths a hand down his tie, waistcoat, and jacket. “Thanks.” 

Phil had asked Clint to dress for a nice dinner, so he hopes that the suit he’d originally bought for the Stark Expo gala will fit the bill. 

“Waiting for Coulson?” Nat asks.

“Yeah. Bruce wanted to talk to him, so we agreed to meet here,” Clint responds.

Natasha looks like she wants to say more and Clint braces himself for her next question.

“I know we don’t normally talk about this kind of thing, but you and Coulson?”

Clint looks down at his feet. “I know it’s a bit of a surprise for everyone,” he says with a shrug.

Natasha steps up and places a hand on Clint’s arm until he’s looking her in the eye. “Not like _that_ ,” she reprimands. “Don’t start getting insecure. I just...with Coulson...I wouldn’t have thought you’d keep it a secret.”

“It’s what he wanted,” Clint says and continues on before Nat can voice her displeasure. “and I agreed. At the time I didn’t see the harm - could actually see why it was a good idea. We’re both private people and I wasn’t expecting it to progress beyond just sex. I never expected to...” 

Clint shrugs again, not willing say the words for the first time in front of Natasha, not when what he wants with Phil is so close. 

“But you did?” Natasha prompts.

“Yeah, I did. Figured it out just before Loki,” Clint says and they both wince.

“What happened three months ago?” she asks. It’s not surprising that Natasha noticed more than she let on.

Clint just stops himself from running a hand through his hair in discomfort and settles for rubbing the back of neck instead. “I guess it was a fight? I’d finally decided that I wanted more than a secret relationship and Phil...uh...didn’t agree. I may have jumped to the wrong conclusion, but he didn’t really try and stop me either.”

“He hurt you,” Nat accuses. 

“I don’t think he meant to,” Clint responds, not realizing the truth to his words until he says them out loud.

“And now Phil wants a second chance? For more than what you were before?” Natasha asks and Clint nods. “Do you believe him?”

Clint had heard Phil step into the hallway a second ago - he hadn’t been trying to be stealthy - and knows Phil has heard the last bit of Clint’s conversation with Natasha. 

“I want to,” Clint says honestly and looks over to where Phil is now standing in the doorway. The happy smile on the older man’s face makes Clint’s heart swell and sets off another flutter of nerves in his stomach.

Natasha takes a slight step forward and Clint rolls his eyes as she glares at Phil. Phil doesn’t flinch, which is impressive because it’s Natasha, but holds up his hand when she opens her mouth to speak.

“While I appreciate the sentiment, Agent Romanoff,” Phil says. “I was just subjected to a very detailed and amazingly terrifying shovel talk from Dr. Banner. Perhaps it would be wise, for the sake of time, to confer with the other Avengers and come up with a common set of threats?”

“Awesome idea!” Tony says excitedly as he walks in from the kitchen. “Like a team building thing.”

“It’s a horrible idea,” Clint protests.

“We should probably wait for Thor,” Steve adds, entering the room with Bruce close behind.

“I think an Asgardian version of the talk would be very enlightening,” Natasha agrees.

Clint turns to Phil for help, but the agent looks more than willing to endure whatever the team is willing to dish out. 

“No,” Clint says forcefully and walks forward to shove Phil towards the elevator before turning back around. “I appreciate it, but no.”

“We love you too, Katniss,” Tony replies, making Clint’s ears turn red.

“Seriously,” Clint pleads. “I can take care of myself.”

“We know, Clint,” Steve says gently. “We were just joking. I promise I won’t let them do anything else. Have a good night.”

Clint smiles his thanks - his team is kind of awesome - before jogging over to where Phil is holding the elevator. 

“You look amazing in that suit,” Phil compliments as the doors close. 

“You’re looking pretty amazing yourself,” Clint responds and bumps their shoulders together. Phil’s suit is also a three-piece and a finer cut than what he normally wears to work. “Sorry about them.”

“They mean well and I’m not afraid of the Avengers,” Phil says and Clint can’t help but grin. No, Clint thinks a little proudly, after facing down a god, he wouldn’t expect Phil to be intimidated by anyone, not even the assembled Avengers.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Dinner turns out to be at Thomas Keller’s Per Se. Thanks to Sitwell’s whining, Clint knows it’s nearly impossible to get a reservation at the restaurant with less than several months notice. Phil won’t say how they got in, only that he cashed in a favor. They’re pampered for hours and it’s easily the best food that Clint has ever tasted in his life.

Phil is an attentive date and the conversation flows naturally between them. But while it was Clint who demanded the need for them to date, it makes him uneasy at how much Phil is treating dinner like it really was their first date. Clint mostly wants things to go back to the way they were before Loki, except with less sneaking around.

When they get back to the Tower, Phil grabs Clint’s hand to keep him from choosing their floor and sends the elevator up to the roof instead. Laid out on the floor is a thick blanket with a thermos and two cups sitting in the center.

“Is this what you were really talking about with Bruce?” Clint asks.

“For part of the time, yes,” Phil admits, “but I wasn’t lying about the shovel talk. Dr. Banner can be very intimidating without turning green.” 

Clint laughs as they settle down on the blanket and Phil pours them each Irish coffee.

“You know,” Clint finally says, “you really don’t have to try so hard just for me. I mean...we’re no different than we were before. I think I just wanted us to take things a little slower this time around. It doesn’t mean we have to start over.”

Phil sighs and looks a little pained. “That’s just it, Clint. I’ve done a lot of thinking over the last few days and I realized that I’ve never done right by you - starting with believing your reputation when you first joined SHIELD. The deeper I dug and the more I got to know you, the harder it was to ignore that I wanted you more than I’ve ever wanted anything else in my life. I thought that maybe if I controlled it somehow, set my own terms, that I could have...”

Phil trails off and look out at the view of the city. “Have?” Clint prods.

“ _Everything,_ ” Phil says finally, turning back to face Clint and the intensity in his gaze surprises the archer. “You, SHIELD, everything. I’m still worried that I can’t have it all, but I’m willing to try if you are.”

“Nobody is going to fault you for being human and we’ve already proven we can work together through both our ups and downs,” Clint argues. “And you’re not the only one at fault. Despite what I said in your office, I knew what I was agreeing to when we started. I never expected to want more than a fling. I never have - not with anyone else before you.”

Phil smiles and laces their fingers together. “If it helps,” he says softly, “I don’t think either of us ever treated this like a just-sex kind of relationship.”

“Are you basically saying that we’re both idiots?” Clint asks.

“Pretty much,” Phil shrugs and they grin at each other in agreement.

Clint leans his head on Phil’s shoulder and sighs happily when Phil wraps an arm around him. “So we start over? Pretend we don’t already have a history?”

“Not quite,” Phil says. “More like learning from our mistakes and letting them go. Not letting them weigh us down.”

He knows they still have a lot to talk about, but it seems less important to bring them up now. Clint is confident that they’ll have plenty of time - hopefully the rest of their lives - to figure out and fix everything they assumed and took for granted all these years. Clint snuggles a little deeper into Phil’s side and all his unease from earlier melts away. 

“I think I’d like that,” Clint agrees. 

It’s not about resurrecting what they once had, but building something new, something stronger from its ashes.

_fin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Per Se is on the [Epicurious list](http://www.epicurious.com/articlesguides/diningtravel/restaurants/newyork_highend) of top New York restaurants. As someone who has always wanted to go to French Laundry, I couldn't resist Phil taking Clint there.
> 
> Thank you for reading. This is probably not the last you'll see of this 'verse.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Podfic of From the Ashes by msraven](https://archiveofourown.org/works/929298) by [griffing07](https://archiveofourown.org/users/griffing07/pseuds/griffing07)




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